


Interrogation

by Recognisedinhell



Series: Killer Wit [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, BAMF everyone, Dean is definitely a twink, Dean might be a twink, Everyone Is Sarcastic, M/M, what a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 17:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recognisedinhell/pseuds/Recognisedinhell
Summary: 'Castiel?'Dean's ears pricked up at that.  He had heard that name before...He watched as the man walked into the small room, tan trench coat billowing behind him like a shit Inspector Gadget.





	1. Where It All Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Let's have some fun and see what I can squeeze from this.
> 
> Thanks for the warm welcome, my lovelies!
> 
> R xx

_Tap tap tap_

_Tap tap tap_

Dean's eye twitched.

_Tap tap t-_

'Can you _cut that crap out?_ '

He hadn't meant for it to sound so...threatening, but the quiet nature of it compared to the loud ignorance he was used to spewing made it unsurprising where he currently was.

The stranger cast his eyes sideways to look over at him. He could probably barely see Dean through his mess of hair and upturned collar, but the flash of ice that literally chilled him to the bone was confirmation enough that he was watching Dean like a zoo animal. He tried to recover.

'Um, sorry, man. Gotta work on my tone before I go in, I guess. Heh.'

The road to recovery is long and riddled with speed bumps.

Dean didn't have enough time to mentally berate himself before he was being called in. He juddered his leg up and down twice before finding the nerve to push down on his thighs so he could stand up. He took one final breath before confidently (hopefully) striding into the interrogation room.

He sat down and folded his arms on the table then quickly jerked them back when he remembered how cold the steel surface was.

This wasn't his first rodeo.

'Mr Winchester?'

'Please, call me Dean.' He looked up to see the slightly amused face of one of the younger cops here. Thank god it wasn't that Marv weirdo because Dean is not sure that he would have left that seat dry for the next contestant.

'Alright, Dean. I'm Officer Henriksen. Look, you can't be older than ninetee -'

'I'm twenty four!'

'Huh.' He looked down at the manilla file in his hands and sighed before throwing it down on the table with a soft _whoosh_.

'Look. This is really just a formality. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time and I'm sorry you got roped into this. You don't have a criminal record, not even a drugs bust or underage drinking...so I'm going to let you off with a warning - only if you promise that you're not gonna be in here again. Deal?'

He only looked about six, maybe seven years older than Dean, so he could cut the patronising crap. Then again, Dean never was one to look a gift horse in the arse or whatever.

'Deal.' Usually, the less said by Dean in these circumstances, the better.

'OK. Thank you for your time, Mr Winchester.'

Dean bowed his head in a silent thank you as he got up from the chair.  After leaving the stuffy confines of the glorified holding cell, he reached for his phone in his back pocket before he remembered that you have to hand it in at the front desk. He would have to text Charlie later with numerous promises of Star Wars and Milk Duds to show his eternal gratitude.

'Castiel?'

Dean's ears pricked up at that. He had heard that name before...

He watched as the man walked into the small room, tan trench coat billowing behind him like a shit Inspector Gadget.

He heard a thud behind the door as the man must have sat down, but didn't hear any mumblings of a started conversation for a good two minutes. Then the door suddenly opened and Henriksen stuck his head around the door.

'Son, you can't stay here. Go on and collect your stuff from the front desk.'

He's twenty fucking four.

'Right, right...sorry, officer.'

Dean barely heard his response as his eyes slid to the man still sitting in the interrogation room. He had taken his coat off and Dean could see the muscles twitch in his forearms as the guy twirled his thumbs. Then he suddenly looked up and locked eyes with Dean right before the door closed.

Dean shook himself a little before the cogs in his head started going again and he could get his feet to move. After he collected his stuff and finished charming the slightly older blonde at the front desk, he took off for the nearest fucking bar.  

 

oOo

 

'Can you  _cut that crap out?'_

Kansas. Third state since the start of the year.

It was October.

He glanced over just quickly enough to see whatever rich, entitled little shit had thought he was suddenly a hard-arse for selling his cousin's weed.

He gripped his pen a little tighter when he saw the guy's face who was sitting just two chairs away. He was young, sure, but not so young that Castiel couldn't appreciate the hardness of his broad shoulders or the softness of his down-turned lips.

The guy seemed to suddenly lose his cool and laughed nervously as he said something close to an apology. Cas wasn't really listening, having already put his head down again to fiddle with the pen in his hands.

'Dean?'

Was that name meant to mean something to Castiel? You don't get a lot of them, and he was sure that he had heard his brother Gabe say that when talking about the trade that had gone down not three months ago. Apparently, if it weren't for this 'Dean' guy, the batch of carbines would have never made it to Arizona and Cas would have been £7,000 short on his July Bonus. Then again, it could have been 'Dan' or something. Wouldn't be the first time he got a name wrong out of bed.

Cas was watching the interrogation room door and thinking about the eleven different ways he already knew how to seriously maim someone only with the shitty biro in his hands. In his defence, three of them were legal in Kentucky so long as it happened at a gas station at night.

The door opened and Cas looked down again as the two men walked out of the room. He glanced up at the back of blondie's head before looking over to the officer. Victor Henriksen. Not much on his file, but at least his photo did him justice. If Gabe were here, he believes the term 'yummy' might be applied.

'Castiel?'

He saw Blondie shuffle a little before regaining his footing and kept going.

Cas walked into the room and took his coat off, hanging it over the back of his chair. He then loosened his tie as he sat down and put his hands in his lap - the tables were always so fucking cold.

'Cas- _teel_  Novak? Moved here,' he checked the manilla file on top of the small pile, 'three months ago? Give or take?'

'That is correct.'

'This your first time in Kansas?'

Castiel thinks about the summer he spent here as a nine-year-old when his dad took him, Gabe and Anna on a summer holiday with his 'friend' Naomi and her son Inias. He was weird.

'Yes.'

'You liking it so far?'

'Yes.'

The officer sighed and ran his hand over his head before leaning down to be at eye-level with him.

'You gonna answer anymore than 'yes' at all during our little chat?'

'Not until you tell the man outside to leave.' Cas had seen his shadow through the tiny blind-covered window and not liked how he didn't know who it was.

'Give me a second.'

Castiel rolled his sleeves up and placed his hands on the table, clasped in front of him as he picked the paint off one of his thumbnails. He didn't properly register the conversation until he heard the voice of the man who was sat so close to him earlier. He looked up just as the door was closing, only seeing a second of those summer grass-green eyes.

'Sorry about that, kid had probably never even been inside a damn police station.'

Victor Henriksen was one of the chattier officers working here, Cas noticed. Maybe one of the older cops like Marv would have just sat him down and stared a confession out of him. He'd never met him, but if he was anything like that Adler guy from New York, he probably wouldn't stop short of beating Cas - Reservoir Dogs style.

'That's not the case for you though, huh Cas- _teel_?'

'It's pronounced Cas- _tee_ -el. Three syllables.'

'I don't really care, Cas- _tee_ -el.' Which OK, that was a little uncalled for. He hadn't even used a fake name this time.

'Why don't you have anything on record before moving here, Mr Barnes?'

Alright, so he hadn't used a fake  _first_  name.

Cas was silent for a few beats before he let out a harsh breath. He looked down as he mumbled his answer.

'What was that?'

'I'm in the witness protection programme.'

Silence. Cas didn't glance up incase he dare see any pity on the man's face.

'Right, of course. Had to leave in a hurry, huh?'

'Something like that.'

He heard the metal chair legs scrape harshly against the concrete floor and groan slightly due to the weight that must have been put on it.

'Well, I still have some questions to ask you regarding the events of last night at the corner of 210th and Rust Road.'

Cas wasn't stupid. He knew what you had to ask next. He looked up before speaking. 'Was it another murder?'

Yeah, something like that.

The officer looked slightly shocked before he narrowed his eyes in a slightly accusatory gaze. 'No one said anything about a murder.'

'No, but I saw on the news last night that this was the forth in a line of shootings across Kansas that started in April. Six months before I moved here.'

'Oh, so you fancy yourself a detective now.'

'On the contrary, officer, I fancy myself an avid fan of the news who also just so happens to work for the Lawrence Journal.'

Castiel made the universal sign for showing he wasn't about to yank a shiv out of a concealed pocket and slowly reached for his ID in his pants.  He placed  it on the table in front of him for Officer Meat-head to see.

Henriksen looked over it with an unimpressed tilt to his mouth and looked back up to Castiel.

'I suppose that's also why you were seen at the Gas N' Sip down the road twenty minutes after the event?'

Castiel tried to refrain from rolling his eyes, he really did. Instead, he blinked a couple of times before returning the officer's intense stare (he's been told it's a good'un on several occasions).

'I think any self-respecting murderer would have fled the scene by the time they saw seven siren-ed police cars.'  What? It was his job to look into the minds of criminals. That was actually the most truthful part of this whole ordeal.

'You do realise that you're currently a witness to this case, Mr Barnes? It's known for witnesses to become suspects easily enough.'

Now Cas had minored in criminal law for two years in college, but he didn't need that qualification to know a damn corruption when he saw one. And this douche did  _not_  just threaten him. 

'And is the clerk who served me also a witness? The man in the line behind me buying condoms? I'm sure you've seen the CCTV footage, sir. Must have been a lot more damning to me in particular than I remember. I just hope you treat these other 'witnesses' with the same integrity that you have shown me, and not as a  _suspect_.'

He stared at Cas with a clenched jaw for several seconds before deciding that this smart-mouthed guy probably wasn't worth him losing his job anytime soon.

'Thank you for your time, Cas- _tee_ -el. We'll be sure to contact you if we need any more information.'

Cas gave him a saccharine smile as he pushed his chair back. Victor was watching as he slowly put his coat back on, making sure to check the collar was lying flat and that the buttons were done up properly. Finally, he picked his ID up from the table and sauntered out of the room without a backwards glance.

He laughed silently - damn, Charlie would never believe him. He would have to buy her several copies of 'The Last Jedi' and watch every single one with her to show his gratitude.

  
But first...

 

...first, he needed a fucking drink.

 


	2. And Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He watched the liquid slosh around the glass as he spun it in circles on the bar-top. He was so transfixed by the motion that he didn't register the person who had just taken up the seat beside him, despite the row of never-ending empty ones. 
> 
> 'Same rules apply as at the urinals, buddy.'
> 
> 'I'll be sure to remember that.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. This fic is changing quicker than a Republican's opinions on guns permitted in schools. Offended by that? Good. Don't read my stuff.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy me dragging you along through this journey with no end in sight!
> 
> R xx

It was dark, the only lighting available being the dim, red-tinted glow provided by the scattering of table lamps. There was a distinct smell of cooking grease mixed with the sweat of the unwashed (that has an underlying smell of bourbon). If that weren't enough to assault the senses, there were several booths in the back where you could just make out the writhing of couples that certainly _wasn't_ PG.

It was perfect.

Dean sat himself at the bar on a dark green stool and waited for the attention of the bartender. It didn't take long, Dean being preferable to the already-wankered guy next to him, so he asked for two fingers of Jack and a tab.

Oh yeah, it was one of those nights.

He watched the liquid slosh around the glass as he spun it in circles on the bar-top. He was so transfixed by the motion that he didn't register the person who had just taken up the seat beside him, despite the row of never-ending empty ones.

'Same rules apply as at the urinals, buddy.'

'I'll be sure to remember that.'

Dean's head snapped up when he recognised the low voice.

'What are you doing here?'

He saw the guy shrug as he patiently waited for the girl's attention, eyes scanning the selection of drinks on offer. Dude was shady as fuck.

'In on unofficial business.'

'Couldn't you have _taken_ your business elsewhere?'

'You'd like that, wouldn't you Dean?'

He said all of this without taking his eyes off the young girl who was pouring two pints. Dean sneered at how his eyes fell down her body - she probably wasn't even of age - and downed the rest of his drink.

Dean put his glass down a little harder than expected, earning a slight glare from her as she walked over.

'Sorry, just a rough day. Can I have another, please?' He indicated towards the empty tumbler with a sheepish grin. The girl must have accepted it because she coloured slightly as she smiled at him, then she took the glass and turned to the arsehole sitting next to him.

'I'll have what my friend here is getting,' he said, winking lewdly and causing the girl's smile to turn fake. As she put the drinks down moments later, the guy caught her hand, saying 'thanks again, sweetheart.'

It made Dean's hairs stand on end and before he could think about it, he forcibly removed the guy's hand from the girl's and stood up, dragging the guy with him to the pool tables.

'You always did have a jealous streak a mile wide.' Dean could hear the leer in his voice and hated that this gross excuse for a human once had his baby brother fucking blinded by _anything_.

Dean dropped his hand immediately and perched on the edge of the table, making sure he could see Luke and to never have his back to him. Slimy bastard.

'What do you fucking want, Luke?' He was done playing nice. Not for this arsehole.

'Nothing you haven't already offered in the past, Dean. Just a little favour.' He kept saying his name and it was so fucking creepy.

Luke (known as Lucifer in the trade business) put his glass down and picked up a pool cue. He slid it through his left-hand purlicue as he lined up his first shot, not really playing as he didn't rack the balls up first. Dean would love to rack up _his_ balls right about now.

'And what might that be, _Lucy_?'

He got two balls, one of each, into the pocket right next to where Dean was leaning, causing him to jump slightly. Lucifer just gave a lecherous half-smile as he straightened. He nodded his head towards the table, as if implying it were Dean's turn, but he just scoffed and sipped at his drink. Unfortunately, it didn't deter Luke.

'Fine, don't play along - it just makes the game shorter and less fun, though.' He makes his second shot and congratulates himself on the three ball going in by swallowing half his drink in one gulp. 'I need you to agree to the trade in Missouri that will make it through to your little _club_ in the next week.'

'Aw Lucifer, you know better than anyone that we don't do neighbours. Thanks for the invite, though. We'll just have to swap potato salad recipes another time!'

'I mean, if you'd prefer for me to go to your brothe -'

'Fucking _try it_. Luke.' Just like that, he had changed Dean's entire disposition. Before, he was interested in doing a little bit of riling up only to leave Luke high and dry. Now...

...now he would _end_ this fucker.

He stared at him as he thought about what he wanted to say as eloquently as possible.

'Get the fuck out.'

He seemed mildly surprised by the sudden turn of events. 'But Deanie, we were having such a nice time. Don't you want to play even one game? I'll make it worth your while...'

'As tempting as that sounds,' Dean grit out, using the hand that wasn't holding his whiskey to push Luke back slightly, 'I think I'd rather use this cue as a dildo.'

'Oh that can be arranged, Dean. Don't tempt m -'

'Lucifer.'

That got Luke's attention. And Dean's.


	3. Chance Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Dean had known he had an overbearing stalker-come-part-guardian-angel complex, he would have asked his partners to role play as Inspector Clouseau a while ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed to write this, but not so much with the proof-reading. Only thing I can do is apologise for the wait, so: apologies. With that said, hope it was worth it.
> 
> R xx

If Dean had known he had an overbearing stalker-come-part-guardian-angel complex, he would have asked his partners to role play as Inspector Clouseau a while ago.

He looked like a fucking Ranger (another _brilliant_ role play idea) with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands straight down to his side, stone-cold gaze directed at Luke.

'Been a while, brother.' Lucifer still hadn't turned round to look at the Inspector, but Dean could see the surprise on his face that he tried to mask with cockiness.

'Not long enough.'

Luke turned round then, a swift movement that put him between the mystery man and Dean, back to the abandoned pool table.

'Aw, why you gotta be like that, Cassie? Not like _I_ left _you_ for dead in that place.'

Cassie (Dean thinks it's actually something with a 'T' in the middle somewhere) continued to stare coldly at Luke, the only sign of his annoyance being the slight twitch of his right index finger.

'Good news, then: it's _your_ turn to leave.'

Lucifer sighed as he took the two small steps needed to be almost touching feet with the guy. Although his voice wasn't nearly as threatening as 'Cassie''s, Dean couldn't not believe the guy when he said, 'Now, now, Cassie. You can't state-hop forever. And as soon as your arse steps outside of these _beautiful_ borders...'

He takes another step impossibly closer, but the guy doesn't so much as blink. Closing the gap completely, Luke finishes by loudly whispering in his ear, '...you're _done_.'

With that, he strides out of the dive, head not looking anywhere but straight ahead as he moves towards the car park. Dean allows the silence for another ten, maybe fifteen, seconds or so before his curiosity gets the better of him.

'What the actual fuck?'

 

oOo

 

It's said with such a casual air to it that Cas can't help but have his attention drawn to the young man he met twenty minutes prior at the police station.

'Hello, Dean.'

He opens his mouth and closes it again twice, no sound coming out, before knocking back the small amount of courage left in his glass.

' _Hello_ , person who knows my name?' His voice is raspy from drinking.

'I am Castiel.'

'The Castiel from earlier in the station, right?'

'The police station, yes.'

A couple suddenly looked up from their menus having heard Cas' louder reply and squinted in their direction.

'Um, heh...excuse us...' Dean drags the guy closer till they're both leaning against the pool table, facing the back wall as not to arouse any more suspicion.

'Dude, you can't just say that loudly enough for anyone to hear.'

'You sound embarrassed.'

'No shit, Sherlock,' Dean sighs as he scratched his hand through his hair, other hand still propping him up on the pool table's edge.

'I apologise.'

He looks up then and searches Cas' face. Cas doesn't show a lot of outward emotion and he knows his low voice can sound quite expressionless sometimes.  It can be both a blessing and a curse.

Dean huffs out a breath of air and shakes his head as he looks down.  Cas can see that he's smiling slightly, but Gabriel has informed him before that smiling can be out of derision or mockery in the right context and Castiel deduces that now may be one of those instances.

'You should show me some respect.' 

Dean looks up slowly, eyes wide and the green practically pulsing with how much intensity he is directing in his gaze right at Castiel.

'Respect?  That some kind of euphemism, Mr Lewis?'

'That is not my last name.'

'Hear about the twink with the cock-sucking lips and daddy issues and think you can just swoop in and get a freebie, you dick in shining armour?'

Dean isn't sure if any of his words are really hitting home, but there's a flare in the guy's eyes that wasn't there a minute ago.

'I saw you being harassed by a man I knew to be bounty-hunted in over ten states and wanted by the Russian Mafia.  Forgive me if you thought that my act of decency was anything other than that, especially if I am correct in assuming that you anticipated my expectancy of a sexual favour.'

' _Dude._ '  Mouth slightly agape, he tried to compute the fact that he had just revealed three extremely secretive secrets about himself.  Strike one: he sucks dick.  Strike two: he has daddy issues.  Strike three: as a result of strike one leading to strike two, prostitution was really the only option.  Before he could connect the dots, Castiel was turning around and already out the door to the dingy pub.

'Fuck,' Dean let out in a hiss and jogged after the guy in order to catch up with his long strides.  He snarled at the tinkling sound of the door bell and looked out at the fairly empty car park, trying to find the guy who just ditched him like a bad date.

'Wait!'

The small figure halfway across the lot stalled, his hear lifting like a Cocker Spaniel.

'Seriously, what the fuck?  Do ya just get off on following strangers to save them from creepy con-men?'

The guy paused for a moment, but then just kept on walking in the same direction as before.  Dean watched in stunned silence as he got into a beat-up light blue continental with plates that were thirty years newer than the car's model.  The car didn't pull away quickly with a screech like in films about 50's turf-ridden America, but as it turned right out of the car park, indicator slowly blinking, Dean didn't think for a second that he would ever see the son-of-a-bitch again.


	4. Looking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I'm telling you, Charlie, it was like someone plucked me out of my actual life and put me in a Taylor Swift music video because nothing made _any fucking sense_ , but you could just _tell_ it was all broody and righteous.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is becoming a little longer than I expected...but I really like these guys. Don't really know the direction of this yet so if you have any desires, voice 'em now or forever hold your peace.
> 
> R xx

'I'm telling you, Charlie, it was like someone plucked me out of my actual life and put me in a Taylor Swift music video because nothing made _any fucking sense_ , but you could just _tell_ it was all broody and righteous.'

'Firstly,' the word cracking in the middle due to the piece-of-crap payphone he was using at the gas station, 'you aren't fooling me with that Taylor Swift bull because I've heard you singing _Love Story_ under your breath.  Secondly, righteous?  You basically told him your life story in three sentences or less and then called him a creeper.  Put your hand down when you would have left the situation.'  She may have had a point.

'Well...he walked off like the damn Caped Crusader anyway so,' muttering, 'fucking Casteel or whatever.'

'Wait, what?'

'No way, we're already behind on our list and we still have to rewatch Last Airbender so Batman will have to w-'

'No, the other thing...like steel?  Castle?'

'Oh, his name was something like that.  Casteel?  Psycho Sally kept calling him 'Cassie'.'

'Right, right...'

'Something wrong?'  Dean heard the tell-tale sound of clicking keys going at light-speed and Charlie was yet to answer his question.  'Charlie?  Come in Charlie?'

'Huh?  Oh, right, sorry Spock.  Gotta cut this short - dude online keeps saying I wrongfully sold him something which is just a load of twizzlers.'

Dean was unconvinced, but let it slide, assuming she was too embarrassed to tell him that she was actually looking up cat videos or something.  He promised to swing by the next time he was driving through Michigan and stay for a couple of days for a much-needed movie fest.  Maybe he could take that hit in Detroit and still make it back to Charlie's for supper.

As he was walking towards his baby, he got out his wallet and counted the money he had left.  Three-hundred should get him to his next stop in Springfield, Illinois, but he needed a new cell after ditching his old burner at the police station.  It's just so inconvenient when they have to take his number, for everyone involved.

At least if he didn't have a phone, he wouldn't be tempted to verbally abuse his dumbarse brother with the tendancy to fuck anyone who wanted Dean Winchester gone.  It wasn't until Sam came home from a two-day bender with puppy-eyes and a six pack of Dean's favourite that he revealed how he had managed to find (read: bone) the one god damn bounty hunter in the entire bar, called _Lucifer_ above all things.

Dean had said it was fine, even whilst packing up his 'disappear' bag: one week edition.  He had stayed with a contact in Colorado, leaving time for the situation to _go the fuck away_ , except he came back to find his brother doing something that's already been removed from his memory on the couch with his new 'boyfriend'.

_'Really, Sammy?!  You thought now's a great time to shack up with the psycho chasing a warrant on my arse?'_

_Silence.  Sam was just nursing his morning-after coffee and looking at the water-ring he had left from when he had picked the mug up for a tentative sip._

_'Well?!'  Dean knew he was being pissy, but it was well-deserved and he hadn't shot a moving target in over three weeks.  That could change in all of two hours, of course, depending on when Spike the Hellhound wakes up._

_'Do I get extra points in your book if I mention how good of a lay he was?'_

He sighed as he sank down into the aged leather seat, fondly stroking the dashboard with one leg still hanging out the open driver's-side door.  He had some plans to go over with Ash about when they were going to start building their club's hideaway.  Thirteen grown men in the same place and Garth still affectionately referred to it as 'Mickey's Clubhouse' whenever Dean needed to check in with him; they had their eyes on a beautiful ranch not too from the city when the old guy finally bites it.  It was at least one hundred acres of rotting stables and uncared-for meadows that Dean was dying to sink his teeth into.  The current tenant was an alright guy, just taking a little too long to find the sweet release.

Dean shook his head slightly as he closed the door and started the engine.  What he failed to notice was the idle blue car as he peeled away from the gas station.

 

oOo

 

'Gabe, what was the name of the guy who helped you on that Arizona weapons run?  The one to Crowley's?'

'Cassie,' he rolled his eyes at the mumbled name followed by a disgusting pop-slurp, 'you're gonna have to be a little more specific.  Basically all of our runs were to Crowley this year.'

'Very well.  The specific run of carbines that got us the most money.'

There was a second's pause and then a faint snap over the speaker.  'Right, right, you mean the one with the Knights?'

'The what?'  Another sigh and some shuffling.

'How can you not remember the Hell Knights, Cassie?!  That broad,  tall stalion with the stuff to match if you know what I'm saying.'

He unfortunately did know what his brother was saying, but didn't want to humour him anymore than absolutely necessary.

'Yes, well, I need to know the name of the leader.'

'Hmm...and why might you need to know that?'  He punctuated the question with another popping sound, no doubt the lolly he was never seen without.

'Because I think I may have seen him at the police station this afternoon and-'

'Wait wait wait wait _wait_ , little broski.'  Castiel knew when to pick his battles, so he dutifully stopped talking so that he could answer Gabe's likely question of why he was there in the first place.

'Was his sasquatch brother there, too?'

Just as Cas was going to answer, his phone started to buzz next to his ear, indicating another call coming through.

'Gabriel, I have to take th-'

'Cassie, no!  You have to tell me what you were doing at...'. His voice was getting blissfully quieter as he moved the phone away so that he could pick up his next call, who strangely enough was...

'Charlie?'

'The one and only, bitches.'  So it was actually the hacker-genius on the other end of the line.

'Did you mean to call me?'

'Woah, someone's being a little cold.'  Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly.

'My apologies.  I was actually going to text you and thank you for whatever you did with my records according to the Kansas City Police.'

'Please, WP is the easiest and quickest to set up, it's no biggie.'  Castiel assumed she was talking about 'witness protection' with her abreviation, so didn't ask what it meant.

A moment of silence passed before he gently reminded, 'Charlie, did you want to speak to me regarding something?'

'Oh, yeah!  Basics I was wondering if you're gonna be doing anymore business with the Knights in the next month or not. If you are, I have to set up some communication lines with the guy because they don't have an official place yet and if you ask me it's because they're looking to build instead of just refurbish but there are loads of nice places to convert into-'

'Charlie.'

'-club houses.'

He waited for her to get some breath back before responding.

'Yes, a contact number would be very useful.  I believe I need to speak to the leader by the name of Dean?  Possibly Dan?'

'Eek!  Um, uh...Right, right well lemme just...' There was some fumbling and grunting as Charlie presumably found the necessary files.  Then he heard a pensive humming and she continued, 'well he doesn't really have a phone right...um, number.  He doesn't have one I can give you, but I can tell you he's still veeery close to you.'  She drew out the word and Castiel squinted in thought.

'So he doesn't have a phone number I can contact him with, but you'd be willing to give me his location?  Is that even compliant with your client-confidentiality?'

'Cas.  Pleeaasee, I run a freelance hacking service from my moving home.  I could still hand you over to the police, but obviously I wouldn't since you're kind of like family who gives me nice cheques in the mail...although more frequently than just my birthday.'

Cas didn't really know how to reply to that, so he just asked for Dean's location.

'Well, I can tell you that he's not _not_ at the gas station you're currently three miles from...'

'Charlie...are you tracking my phone right now?'

'Pfft, what?!  No way!  Since you told me last that it's an 'invation of privacy' or whatever, I've been totes ignoring that you keep eating at iHop.'

Cas let out a long sigh as he pulled out of the dirt side road and headed towards the BP station.

'I'll talk to you later, Charlie.'

'Is this because of the tracking?  Because I swear it was only accidental after I opened my laptop and-'

'Goodbye, Charlie.'

He only felt slightly bad as he hung up the phone, cutting her off mid-sentence.  He had already spotted a similar black beast of a car by the gas pumps.  Cas hung back slightly and turned the engine off as not to attract the man's attention.  He was just sitting in the front seat, boot firmly planted on the floor.

Castiel observed in silence as the guy heavily shut his door and a loud rumbling sounded, almost shaking his own car it was so powerful.  It was clearly too late to just get out and approach the man, so when the spluttered gas cloud erupted, slightly hiding the car as it drove away, Cas could only think of one solution.

He had to follow.


End file.
